


Sincerely yours, the Losers Club

by LyricIsHereUnfortunately



Category: IT - Stephen King, The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Breakfast Club Fusion, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Hanscom Loves Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh Knows Everything, Beverly Marsh Stays in Derry, Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Everyone Loves Mike Hanlon, F/M, Friendship is Magic, I Love the Losers Club (IT), Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Mike Hanlon Deserves Nice Things, Mike Hanlon Isn't Homeschooled, Richie Tozier Being an Asshole, Richie Tozier Flirts, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sassy Stanley Uris, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Stanley Uris is So Done, The Losers Club Are Good Friends (IT), The Losers Club Are Not Heterosexual (IT), Writer Bill Denbrough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricIsHereUnfortunately/pseuds/LyricIsHereUnfortunately
Summary: Saturday, March 24, 1994.High School, Derry, Maine.Dear Mr. Penny,We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong, what we did was wrong.  But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are, what do you care?  You see us as you want to see us...in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions.  You see us as a Stutter, a Fatty, a Slut, a Brain, a Farmboy, a Hypochondriac, and a Trashmouth. Correct?  That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning. We were brainwashed…
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough & The Losers Club, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Sincerely yours, the Losers Club

_ Saturday, March 24, 1994.  _

_ High School, Derry, Maine. _

_ Dear Mr. Penny, _

_ We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong, what we did was wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are, what do you care? You see us as you want to see us...in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a Stutter, a Fatty, a Slut, a Brain, a Farmboy, a Hypochondriac, and a Trashmouth. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning. We were brainwashed… _

One dry, sweltering Saturday afternoon, six cars arrive at Derry’s very own high school parking lot. Each car is very different in color and shape and some are more beat down than others. 

In one of these cars, one that is fairly beat down, from use rather than abuse, a mildly entertaining conversation sparks between a father and son. 

“I ca-ca-can't believe y-you can't get me outta th-this…” Bill Denbrough complained, looking distastefully at the school building. “I mean it's so ab-absurd I have to be here on a Sa-Sat-Saturday! It's not like I'm de-defective or anything.” 

“I know, Son.” His dad pats him on the back, then motions him to leave the car. “Ditching class to go write doesn't make you defective. I just wish you’d join some more sports. Track helped with your stutter, didn’t it?” Bill doesn’t respond. His dad sighs. “Have a good day.”

Bill stutters out a goodbye, throwing open the car door. 

In the next car, one that is kept in pristine order, though from lack of use and obsessive cleaning rather than actual care, a rather pitiful conversation occurs between a mother and son. 

“Oh, Eddie-Bear!” Eddie Kasperbrak’s mother weeps. “How could you do this to me? My own son!” He waits for her to calm down. “Eddie, this better be the last time we ever have to come to a place like this, you hear me?”

Eddie feels a pang of regret. “Yes, Mommy.”

She waggles a finger in his face, “Go get in there and use that time to your advantage. Don’t touch anything and make sure to wipe down your desk before you sit down!”

“Yes, Mommy.” He says again, opening the car door. 

“You don’t know what kind of germs those things have, Eddie!” She calls out to him as he walks away. He has to bite his lip from yelling back at her. “I love you, Eddie-Bear, I’m just trying to do what’s best for you!”

In another car, one that is bulky and only slightly used, yet another interesting conversation is taking place. 

Ben Hanscom shrugs on his letterman jacket as his dad lectures him. His jacket has gotten slightly tighter around the middle, and he tries to tell himself that it’s only because he has to pack on weight for the next game. 

“...Guys screw around, it’s normal, but the problem is that you got caught, Sport.” His dad tells him, through a thin veil of calm. 

“Yeah, I know,” Ben snaps lightly, frustrated with the zipper of his jacket. “Mom already reemed me, alright?”

“You wanna miss a match?” The calmness is gone now, and a vein his dad’s forehead pops. “You wanna blow your ride? Now no school's gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case.”

“I got it, Dad.” He steps out of the car, giving up on his zipper and leaving the jacket open. “I gotta go.”

Now the other conversations aren’t nearly as interesting, so let’s cut our favorite asshole, why don’t we?

Richie Tozier walks down the street, somewhat blindly, as he has traded in his regular glasses for a pair of shades. A car barrels towards him, tires screeching against the concrete. He doesn’t falter for a step. 

Just as it reaches a couple of feet in front of him, it stops, rather abruptly. Richie pauses and cranes his neck to see Beverly Marsh hop out of the car. She casts him a cool look, which he meets with a smirk. 

Twenty minutes later, six out of seven are sitting in the library, a mismatched group of outcasts, and the thought hits Eddie that they fit each other. As Richie slams open the library door, he discards the thought.

As he walks in, Richie grabs at the check out counter, knocking things off and shoving things in his pockets. He whistles, and sits on top of the table where Stanley Uris looks up at him boredly before grabbing his bird book and moving to a different seat. 

“Oh, come on!” Richie jokes, laying across the table. “You don’t wanna sit with lil’ old me, Stan the Man?”

Stan just raises an eyebrow at him while Mike Hanlon throws Richie a smile from his spot at Stan’s side.

Richie raises an eyebrow in return, though it remains unseen due to his sunglasses and slides into a chair and perching his feet on the table. 

Stan and Richie used to be quite close, before middle school, that is, and Mike was one of the few kids in Derry that didn’t mind Richie’s company. Not that they were friends. Anyone with a lick of sense knew that being friends with Richie Toizer was a disaster waiting to happen.

The teacher storms into the room, a rather odd man named Mr. Penny that took much joy in making specifically their lives as difficult as possible. 

“Well!” He barked, hand smoothing over what was left of his ginger hair. “Here we are! I want to congratulate you for being on time, for once.”

Bill raised his hand and didn’t wait for an answer. “Sir, I th-think there ha-hah-has been a muh-mistake. I don’t b-belong here. Buh-Bowers misunderstood-”

Bill was another one of Richie’s old acquaintances, but they barely had the time to become friends before Bill’s little brother died under mysterious circumstances and Bill had shut everyone out of his life.

“No!” Mr. Penny said, pointing a yellowed fingernail in Bill’s face. “I think you misunderstood, Buh-Buh-Billy!” He taunted. “It is now seven-oh-six. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways-”

Richie threw his head back and spit into the air and catch it again in his mouth. Eddie gagged. 

“-and you may not talk! You will not move from these seats-” He stalks over to Richie and shoves his feet off the table. “-and you will not sleep.” He pauses to smooth back his hair once more. “Alright people, we're gonna try something a little different today. We are going to write an essay--of no less than a thousand words--describing to me who you think you are.”

“Is this a test?” Richie asks cheekily. “I think we know exactly who you think we are.”

“And when I say essay…” Mr. Penny drawled. “I mean essay. Do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Toizer?”

Richie clicks his tongue. “Crystal.” 

“Good. Maybe you'll learn a little something about yourself.” Richie snickers. “My office,” He points. “Is right across the hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?”

No one but Richie speaks up. “Yeah, I’ve got one.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?”

“You, Mr. Toizer,” Mr. Penny sneers, “can get the answer to that quest next Saturday.”

“That man is a brownie hound,” Richie mutters at the teacher’s retreating back. 

Once the door to his office closes soundly, silence closes over the teens. That is, until a loud snapping sound echoes from where Eddie is sitting. 

Eddie is standing up, the snapping sound coming from his opening and closing of a box of cleaning supplies from his fanny pack. He ignores the eyes on him as he cleans the desk. 

Eddie was one of the few kids in the entire town who had been homeschooled for most of his life. He had allowed to go to school once before high school, second grade. It had lasted a week and ended when he had gotten chickenpox and his mother hadn’t allowed him to go back until Sophomore year.

“Damn, Eds, what all do you have in there?” Richie peers forward, a flirty grin across his face. 

“Don’t call me Eds!” Eddie snaps, suppressing a smile. 

He was also one of the few kids that Richie bothered to talk to. They weren’t friends, no, Eddie’s mother wouldn’t allow it, but they seemed to be on a different wavelength than the rest of the town.

“Y’know,” Richie leans even closer, “You’re cu-”

“Shh!” Stan hushes him, jabbing a finger at where Mr. Penny is peering through his office window. “I don’t know about you, Richie, but I wanna leave here eventually.”

Bill mutters to himself as he stares at the paper before him. “Who am I? Who do I think I am?” He begins to chew on his pencil. “I am a walrus.” Richie snorts a laugh and Bill spits out the pencil, blushing. “I- Uh- W-Well-”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Billiam.” 

Richie begins to hum a song underneath his breath, watching as Eddie finishes cleaning and begins to write on his paper, whispering to himself. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

Richie stops ‘singing’ abruptly, feet landing on the ground with a solid thud. “Oh, shit. What do we do if we have to piss?”

“Oh my god.” Eddie groans. 

“Well, if you have to go,” He unzips his fly. “You have to go!”

“Do not!” Eddie snaps and the rest of the room agrees with him. 

“You are not pissing in here, dude.” Ben makes a face.

Bev glared at Richie. “Richie, usually we’re cool, but you whip it out and you're dead before the first drop hits the floor!”

Beverly Marsh was another one of those few that Richie talked to. She was his smoke buddy and not much more, though there were rumors that she blew him in the parking lot at lunch. Then again, there were lots of rumors circling around Bev.

Eddie gags. “Do you even know how gross that is? God, you’re insufferable.” 

Richie zips his pants back up with a grin, leaning over to him again. “You're pretty sexy when you get angry.” 

Eddie went bright red, squeaking out another insult and turning away from him. 

“Richie,” Mike said warningly. “If you don’t leave the poor kid alone, I’ll tell Pop not to let you eat any more of his apple pie.”

Pop, more well known as Old Man Hanlon, was Mike’s grandfather and the only adult in all of Derry that could deal with Richie Toizer. 

Richie fake-gasped, “You wouldn’t!”

“I would!”

The room once again falls quiet, until Richie decides to speak up. Per usual. 

“Hey, Sporto!” Richie walks over and pokes at Ben’s cheek. “What'd you do to get in here? Forget to wash your jock?”

Ben was one of the few jocks in Derry that wasn’t a complete asshole, not that it meant anything to Richie. A Sporto is a Sporto, especially if they hang with Henry Bowers.

Stan twisted his head back to glare at him. “Look, just because you live in here doesn't give you the right to be a pain in the ass, so knock it off!”

“It’s a free country!” Richie shot back.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Can’t we just try to ignore him?” He asked the others.

Richie mockingly rolled his eyes back. “Babe, you couldn't ignore me if you tried!”

Bev clears her throat then whispers something in Ben’s ear. 

Richie grins, moving to address them. “So, are you two boyfriend/girlfriend?” A beat. “Steady dates?” Another. “Lovers?”

“Why, asshole?” Bev practically screeched, standing up. “Is it because you think I’m a slut like every other dickhead in this fucking town?”

Richie looks shocked, and just as he opens his mouth, Mr. Penny yells from the other room. 

“Hey! What's going on in there?” He yells, then mutters something to himself. 

Richie looks apologetic, but just walks over to the railing and sits on it. “What do you say we close that door. We can't have any kind of party with Penny checking us out every few seconds.”

“This isn’t supposed to be a party,” Stan tells him boredly. 

“There are six other people here, Toizer,” Ben interrupts. “Maybe you could stop being so…”

“Well, you can count!” 

Bill spoke up, his resolve finally breaking. “Ya-You know, Richie, you duh-don't even fuc-fucking count. I m-mean, if you dis-disappeared fuh-forever it wuh-wouldn't make any difference. You muh-may as well not even ex-exist at this school.”

Richie falls quiet, a hurt look flashing onto his features, then disappearing just as quick. 

Then he opens his mouth. Eddie starts, fully expecting a fight to break out. But Richie just…straight up ignores the comment. He begins to talk about anything under the sun, quickly. None of the others can keep up. 

He talks for ten straight minutes until Stan cuts him off. 

“Look, you keep up your talking, and Penny’s gonna come right in here.” He warns. “I got plans for this Saturday and I'm not gonna miss it on account of you!”

“Oh, no!” Richie mocks. “How terrible!”

Mr. Penny moves out in the hall, startling Richie, who quickly comes and sits in the chair between Bev and Ben. He folds his hands on the table, trying to look as innocent as possible. Everyone holds their breath as Mr. Penny goes back into his office.

Once the danger’s gone, Richie laughs and gets up. He starts walking towards the double doors that separate the library from the hallway. 

He fiddles with the door for a second before removing a screw, then turns back and does an amazing Mr. Penny voice. “Young people, have you finished your papers yet?”

“What are you doing?” Eddie hisses. 

Richie messes with the door again, and it swings shut with a bang. 

Everyone yells in protest as he runs back over and takes a seat. 

“That's very funny, come on, fix it!”

“You should really fix that!”

“Am I a genius or what?” Richie grins. 

“Na-No, you're a-an asshole!”

“Fix the door, Toizer!”

“Fix it!”

Richie hushes them just as Mr. Penny storms in. 

“Why is that door closed?” He yells, there’s a pause and he repeats himself.

“How're we s'posed to know? We're not s'posed to move, right?” Stan asks, deadpan. 

“Why?” He hisses, turning to Eddie. 

“We were just sitting here like we were s'posed to!” Eddie protested.

“Who. Closed. That. Door?”

Richie blinks up at the teacher. “I think a screw fell out of it.”

“It just closed, Sir,” Mike said, earnestly. 

Mr. Penny gives up and goes to the door trying to get it to stay open. “Mr. Hanscom! Come over here!”

Ben helps him move a metal bookcase over to keep the door open, but it blocks the exit. 

“That's very clever sir,” Richie snarks, “but what if there's a fire? I think violating fire codes and endangering the lives of children would be unwise at this juncture in your career, sir.”

The others blink at his use of vocabulary as Mr. Penny thinks that over. 

“There are emergency exits at the other ends of the library, I think you shall be fine.” Mr. Penny turns on his heel. 

“Eat my shorts,” Richie mutters. 

“What was that, Mr. Toizer?” 

Richie snapped his head up. “Eat my shorts!”

“You just bought yourself another Saturday, mister!”

“Fuck you!”

“You just bought one more right there!”

“I'm free the Saturday after that but after that, I'm gonna have to check my calendar!”

“Good! 'Cause it's gonna be filled, we'll keep goin'! Do you want another one? Say the word, just say the word! Instead of going to prison, you'll come here! Are you?”

Richie grits his teeth. “Am I what?”

“Are you free for the rest of your miserable lifetime?”

Richie seethes. “No.”

Mr. Penny looks at him crosseyed. “I'm doing society a favor!”

“So?”

“That's another one, right now! I've got you for the rest of your natural-born life if you don't watch your step! You want another one?”

“Yes!” Richie stands up. 

“You got it! You got another one, right there! That's another one pal!”

“Cut it out, Richie!” Eddie tries to stop him, looking worried.

“You done, Mr. Toizer?”

“Not even close, Fuckface!” Richie roars, and Eddie grabs his hand, mouthing ‘Stop.’ at him.

Mr. Penny pauses. “How many is that?”

“Seven,” Stan says boredly. 

“And now it’s eight! That’s for two months!” 

“I’m  _ thrilled _ !” 

“Alright, that's it! I'm going to be right outside those doors.” Mr. Penny tells them, turning away. “Next time I come in here, I’m cracking skulls!”

Richie screams at his retreating back, and it’s an animalistic sound. Wounded and furious. It rips from his throat and Eddie just squeezes his hand tighter. 

“FUCK YOU!” He screams, voice hoarse. 

He sits back on the desk, shaking.

“Richie…” Bev starts, but Richie cuts her off. 

He turns to Eddie and smirks. “Y’know, if you wanna hold my hand-”

Eddie yanks his hand away and grabs his hand sanitizer from his fanny pack. “Oh fuck, why did I do that? I have no idea where your hands have been!”

“I know where I want them to be-”

“Beep, beep, Rich!” Eddie snapped, putting some sanitizer on his hands and sitting back down. The rest follow him, reclaiming their seats. 

Even Richie sits down, looking around boredly before grabbing his lighter from his pocket. It takes a moment, but he eventually lights his shoe on fire and uses it to light two cigarettes, and then puts it out. Eddie nags him about how dangerous that is as he hands one of the cigarettes to Bev. 

Bev takes it with a small smile, taking a long drag. 

After they finish their cigarettes and Eddie finishes his rant, they all fall asleep, one by one. 

That is until Mr. Penny burst into the room once more to give permission for a bathroom break. 

After each of them has taken a piss, Mr. Penny retreats to his office once more. 

Richie grabs a book from one of the shelves and flips through it, before ripping a page out. 

Bill rolls his eyes. “Be-Because that’s in-intelligent.”

“You're right,” He says sarcastically, “It's wrong to destroy literature.”

“Oh, boy,” Mike groans. 

“It's such fun to read!” Richie continues. “Love the use of bad grammar!”

“What do you know about grammar?” Stan bites. 

Richie ignores him. “I love his work!” He throws the papers into the air, then turns and opens the card catalog drawer and begins to take cards out and throws them over his shoulder. “Big deal,” He mutters, “Nothing to do when you're locked in a vacancy.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stan said, then turned to Mike. “You grounded after this?”

“Do you think I'd speak for you?” Richie says incredulously, “I don't even know your language!”

Mike thinks for a moment. “Pop said I was, but you know he can’t keep a grudge very long.”

“Wish my parents were like that.” Ben thought out loud. “When I get home, it’s gonna be a fight about whether or not I’m grounded, whether or not I’ve run enough laps, whether or not I need to go another diet.”

“When I get home,” Bev started in, “My mom’s gonna tired from working all day, and my, uh, dad is gonna be so pissed. My mom said I don’t have to worry about being grounded, but my dad says I am. If I do what my mother tells me to do, it's because my father says it's not okay. There's like this whole big monster deal, it's endless and it's a total drag. It's like any minute…” She pauses. “Divorce.”

“Which one do you like better?” Richie asks, “If they do spilt, which one would you live with?”

“I’d go live with my aunt.” She confessed. “She lives in far away, in the city too.”

Richie thinks about this for a moment. “And, Sporto?”

“Hm?” Ben looks up. “What?”

Richie jabs his shoulder. “You’re a parent’s wet dream, alright? Look, I can see you getting all bunged up for them making you wear the jacket, but you’re an American dream. You’re hot, smart, and sporty. You’re everything on a silver fucking platter.”

“I’m fat,” Ben counters.

“And so fucking what, Haystack? You’re a football player, you need the weight.”

“Why you gotta insult everybody?” Stan asks. 

“I'm being honest, asshole! I would expect you to know the difference!”

“You’re the asshole, Rich.” Eddie pipes up.

“Eds,” Richie winked. “You’re cute when you’re right.”

“That’s not my name!” Eddie flips him off. 

“Obscene finger gestures from such a pristine boy!” Richie fake gasps. “What would your mother say?”

“I'm not pristine!” Eddie shot back resentfully. 

Richie walked over and turned his chair so Eddie was trapped between his arms. “Are you a virgin?” Eddie gulped, Richie smirked and leaned closer. “Tell me, Eds, is it gonna be a white wedding?”

“Why can’t you just shut up?”

“Have you ever kissed another boy?” A pause. “Have you ever kissed another boy on the mouth?”

“Do you want me to puke?” A flash of hurt passed across Richie’s face, but then he backs up.

He put his hands up in surrender. “Nothin’ personal, sweetie.”

“Just leave him alone,” Bev tells him, lighting another smoke.

“I’m trying to help him!”

“Yeah, right,” Stan says, rolling his eyes. “You just wanna get into his pants.”

“Whatever,” Richie groans, sitting back down.

The quiet lasts twenty minutes, then Richie begins to whistle. One by one, the others join in. They’re out of tune and harmony, but they’re smiling.

Mr. Penny walks back in, and everyone but Richie falls back silent. “Lunchtime, ladies.”

“Here?” Eddie asked.

“Here.”

“Well, I think the cafeteria would be a more suitable place for us to eat lunch in, sir!” Eddie says, eyeing the dirty desks. 

“No one cares what you think!”

“Will milk be made available to us?” Richie asks with mock innocence. 

“We're extremely thirsty, sir.” Mike joins in.

“I have a very low tolerance for dehydration,” Eddie tells him.

“I've s-seen huh-him de-dehydrate sir, it's pretty guh-gross.” 

“Relax,” Richie stands up. “I’ll get it.”

“Ah, ah, ah grab some wood there, bub!” Richie grins. “What do you think, I was born yesterday? You think I'm gonna have you roaming these halls?” Mr. Penny points at Mike, “You! Wake up that other one and come with me.”

He shakes Stan awake and they leave the room.

“Hey, Spaghetti,” Richie taunts, opening a book. “You wanna see a picture of a guy with elephantitus of the nuts? It's pretty nasty.”

Eddie makes a disgusted face. “That’s terrible!”

“How do you think he rides a bike?”

“You kn-know what I wuh-wish I was d-doing?” Bill says. “I wish I wah-was on a pl-plane to Fr-Fruh-France.”

This causes Richie to do a horrible French voice that everyone groans at.

Mike and Stan come back with food, handing it out with ease. Richie throws a coke to Bev, who catches it without looking up.

Richie leans over and plucks Eddie’s home-made lunch right out of his hands. “What are we having?”

“ _ I’m _ having  _ my _ lunch.” Eddie counters, reaching for his bag. Richie lightly slaps his hands away.

He reaches in a pulls out a thermos. “Milk?”

“Soup.”

“Ah!” Richie pulls out a juice box. “Jackpot!” He stabs it with the straw and takes a sip before returning to the bag. “Carrots with ranch, ooh! And a cheese sandwich with the crust cut off!”

“Well Eds, this is a very nutritious lunch, all the food groups are represented. Tell me, does your mother need a new husband any time soon?”

“Don’t call me that. And you wish.”

Richie hopped up, “This is my impression of the spaghetti man’s household.” He pitches his voice high pitched and motherly. “Son! Oh, son! I have a surprise for you!” Then in a small, kiddy voice, he continues, “What is it, Mommy?” Motherly again. “It’s two minutes outside, and then I’ll make you a lunch!” Kiddy again. “Oh, Mommy, aren’t I a swell kid?” Motherly again. “Aren’t our lives just swell?”

He mimes them hugging each other, the shoving pills down his throat. Suddenly, it isn’t that funny anymore. 

“Oh, yeah, Trashmouth?” Eddie challenges. “What about your family?”

“Oh,” He laughs. “That’s easy.” He sets his voice low and raspy. “Stupid, worthless, no good, Goddamned, freeloading, son of a bitch, retarded, bigmouth, know it all, asshole, jerk!” Then high pitched and drunk sounding. “You forgot ugly, lazy, and disrespectful. I should’ve had a daughter, no! I should have had an abortion!” Then as his dad again. “Get out! We’ve got shit to do!” The as himself. “But, Dad-” As his dad. “Fuck off!” As his mom, he mimes throwing a beer bottle.

He mimes it crashing into him. He falls back. 

Everyone pauses. 

“That true?” Eddie asks.

“Do you wanna come over?” Richie shoots back. 

“Th-That's bullshit. It's all puh-part of your im-image, I don't buh-believe a w-word of it.” Bill snaps. 

“Oh, yeah?” Richie walks over to him, pulling up his pant leg. Across his calf is a long, pink scar. “That’s what you get in my house if you ask my mom for dinner.”

“Richie-” Bev starts but is cut off. 

“No. I’m done with you fucking dildos, I’m out.” Richie walks over to a map table and throws all the maps on the floor. He climbs up on top of the table and then up to the second-floor balcony.

“You shouldn't have said that!” Bev snaps at Bill, who has the decency to at least look apologetic. She stands up to follow Richie, and the rest follow her loyally. 

Eddie jogs up and falls in step with Richie as they step into the hallway. “How do you know where Penny went?”

“I don’t.” Richie throws him a reckless grin. “Being bad feels pretty good, huh?”

Eddie smiles back in spite of himself. 

“What's the point in going to Richie’s locker?” Ben questions out loud. 

“Beat’s me,” Mike shrugs. 

Once they reach Richie’s locker, he throws it open. Eddie gags. “That’s disgusting!”

“My maid’s on vacation.” Richie snarked, pulling out a bag of green. 

“Drugs!” Bev cheers. 

They turn to leave, and Stan steals the lock off of Richie’s locker as they go. Mike throws him a questioning glance. Stan shrugs. 

“We'll cross through the lab, and then we'll double back,” Richie tells them. 

“If w-we get cuh-ca-caught, it’s ya-your neck.” Bill warns lightly. 

Richie rolls his eyes, “We’ll be fine.” And just as he finishes saying, Mr. Penny walks into the hallway. 

They turn around almost immediately, scrambling over themselves to getaway. Every direction they go seems to lead them back to Mr. Penny. 

“Wait! Wait, hold it! Hold it! We have to go through the cafeteria!” Richie stops them. 

“No! Th-The activities huh-hall!” Bill argues. 

“You don't know what you're talking about!”

“Nuh-No, you don't know wuh-what you're t-talking about!” Bill grabs onto Ben’s arm and beacons him to follow. “We’re d-done luh-li-listening to you!”

Richie throws his hands up in frustration but follows them anyways down the hall. Turns out, Bill’s way leads to a dead end. 

“I told you, asshole.”

“Great idea, Bill,” Stan said sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Bill!” Eddie growls. “Why didn’t you listen to Richie?”

“We’re dead!” Mike said, “Penny’s coming!”

“We’re dead!” Bev repeated. 

Richie took a deep breath. “Nope, just me.” He grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him forward, then shoved the bag of weed in the back of his pants. “Get to the library, go through the lunchroom.” He said before taking off down the hallway, singing as loud as he could.

The rest of them run, going through the hallway, and spurred on by the echos of Richie’s voice. 

They make it safely to the library, collapsing on their desks. Even Eddie, the usual neat freak, lays across his desk. 

Ten minutes pass and they are all safely in their seats we Mr. Penny bursts into the room, Richie in tow. 

Mr. Penny addresses them. “Mr. Wiseguy here has taken it upon himself to go to the gymnasium. I'm sorry to inform you, you're going to be without his services for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, boohoo!” Richie mocks as he gathers his backpack. 

“Everything's a big joke, huh Toizer? The false alarm you pulled, Friday, false alarms are really funny, aren't they...What if your home, what if your family…” Richie looks at him blankly. “What if your dope was on fire?”

Richie grinned cheekily. “Can’t be, sir, it’s in Eddie’s underwear.”

Bill barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head. Richie Toizer must be the most ballsy guy on earth.

“You think he's funny? Do you think this is cute? You think he's bitchin', is that it? Lemme tell you something. Look at him, he's a bum.” Mr. Penny bites at him. “You wanna see something funny? You go visit Richie Toizer in twenty-seven years! You'll see how God damned funny he is!” He takes a hold of Richie’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, keep your fuckin' hands off me!” Richie jumps back from him, and takes his sunglasses out of his pocket, placing them in front of Bill. “For better hallway vision.”

He storms out, Mr. Penny at his heels, and knocks over bookcases and papers as he leaves. 

The others look to each other, then Eddie mutters to himself. “That boy is my hero.”

Everyone else, even Stan, agree loudly. 

“I hope he’s okay.”

Ten solemn minutes pass, then their hero falls out of the fucking sky. Richie, who was climbing through the air vent, dusted the paster off of his clothes and stood up with an easy grin. 

“Hope you Losers didn’t miss me too much.” He grins. “Forgot my pencil.”

“What was that?” Mr. Penny calls from the hall and Richie ducks underneath Eddie’s desk.

Mr. Penny comes back into the room, arms crossed. “What was that ruckus?”

“What ruckus, sir?” Ben asks cheekily.

“I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus!”

“Could you describe the ruckus, sir?” Bev asks.

“Watch your tongue young lady, watch it!”

Richie hits his head on the desk, groaning. Eddie and Mike try to cover it by coughing. 

“What noise?” Stan looks up.

“I don’t think there was a noise,” Mike confesses.

Eddie kicks Richie under the table and Richie pinches his thigh, causing him to squeak. The rest of the losers join in the coughing fit. 

“That noise? Was that the noise you were talking about?” A flustered Eddie asks.

“No, it wasn't. That was not the noise I was talking about. Now, I may not have caught you in the act this time, but you can bet I will.” Mr. Penny warns.

Stan snorts. Mr. Penny snaps an insult at him before storming out once more, but the toilet seat cover is stuck to his pants this time. 

Everyone laughs, except for Eddie, who kicks Richie again as he crawls out from under the desk.

“Asshole.”

“It was an accident?” Richie said cheekily, and Eddie gave him back his weed with a roll of his eyes. 

Twenty minutes later, they are sitting in a circle together, sharing a couple of joints, giggling. 

“Do you gotta middle name, man?” Ben asks Bill with an easy grin. 

Bill laughs and takes another drag. “Guess.”

“Your middle name is Ralph, as in puke,” Stan says boredly. “Your birthday is March 12th, you're five-nine and a half you weigh a hundred and thirty pounds and your social security number is 0-4-9-3-8-0-9-1-” He pauses. “3.”

“Wow! Are you psychic?” Mike asks, clearly impressed. 

“Nope.” He said, leaning back and taking another drag. 

“Would you mind telling me how you know all this about me?” Bill asks, stutter apparently gone when he’s high. 

Stan holds up a wallet. “I stole your shit.”

“What?” Bill beckons it back. “Give it!”

Richie goes through Eddie’s fanny pack. “Why do you need so much shit?”

Eddie looks up from Richie’s notebook, where he’s studying the jokes that Richie’s had written there.

“You never know where you’ll get hurt, or even sick.” He pauses. “Germs are everywhere.”

Bev looks over to them. “Wanna see what’s in my bag?”

“Nah,” They both say a once, far too busy with their own shit. 

Bev bites her lip, then dumps out her bag anyways. 

“Holy shit!” Mike says. “Why do you have clothes in there?”

“You never know when you have to scram.” Bev shrugs. “Homelife...is unsatisfying.”

“So you’d rather be homeless?” Bill questions.

Bev nods then study the other’s faces. She doesn’t see anything special, and begins to shove her stuff back in her bag and walk away. 

“Wait!” Ben stands up, chasing after her. “What's the deal?”

“There is no deal, Sporto,” She tells him. “Forget it.”

“Wait a minute, now you're carrying all that crap around in your purse. Either you really wanna run away or you want people to think you wanna run away.” Ben tells her. “Which is it?”

“None!” She pauses. “Both?”

“Let’s…” Ben holds out his hand. “Let’s go back.”

She looks up at him, then, and smiles. It takes his breath away. 

“Okay.”

About an hour later, another argument breaks out, and honestly, none of them really remember what the point was. 

But someone says the word ‘Bizarre’ and it catches Bill’s attention. His high is wearing off, but the aftereffect is still there, so he opens his mouth. 

“What's buh-bizarre? I m-mean we're all pruh-pretty bizarre! Some of us a-are just better at hi-huh-hiding it, that's all.”

Ben nods. “You’re so right.”

“How are you bizarre?” Richie snorts. 

“He can't think for himself,” Stan says like it's obvious. 

“He's right,” Ben says. “Do you guys know what, uh, what did I get in here?” They shake their heads. “I taped some guy’s underwear to the flag pole.”

Eddie looks up, laughing. “That was you?”

“Henry told me to.” Ben looks all choked up. “I did it so my dad would lay off of me. Henry practically owns this school, and my dad told me to listen to him. So I did it. But now I can’t stop thinking about that poor guy. I mean, he has to go home to his dad after that. All humiliated.” Suddenly, he’s crying. “I mean, how do you apologize for something like that? There's no way...it's all because of me and my old man. Oh God, I fucking hate him! He's like this...he's like his mindless machine that I can't even relate to anymore… ‘Ben, you've got to be number one! I won't tolerate any losers in this family… I won’t tolerate any fatties in this family. Win. Win! WIN!’ You son of a bitch! You know, sometimes, I wish my knee would give...and I wouldn't be able to play anymore. And he could forget all about me.”

“I think your old man and my old man should get together and go bowling,” Richie said bitterly and Ben laughed.

“It's like me, you know, with myself…” Mike trails off. “Like, when I, when I step outside myself kinda, and when I, when I look in at myself you know? And I see me and I don't like what I see, I really don't.” Mike said. “I don’t like the look of myself in Derry. I’m just a little black farmboy to everyone here. I wanna travel the world, and never look back. I don’t even care where I go. Just, not here. I might go to Florida for a little, though.”

Everyone nodded. 

“I’m gonna go to New York,” Bev said. “And maybe even France.”

“Me too,” Ben whispers.

“I’m gonna go it L.A.” Everyone looks up at Richie. “I’m gonna be a comedian. Maybe an actor.”

There’s a lengthy pause.

“I can write with my toes,” Stan says, glancing off to the side boredly. “And play the piano.”

“I can make spaghetti!” Eddie said happily. “I taught myself while my mother was out.”

“Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie smirks. “I wouldn’t mind some.”

“What can you do, Ben?” Eddie asks.

“I can, um, build things. I’m good at that.”

“What about you, Bev?”

Bev bit her lip. “I can make clothes. Dresses, shirts, pants.”

Bill smiled. “I th-think I’m a pruh-pretty good writer.”

“Your endings suck,” Richie said.

“Hey!” Ben scoffed. “Like you could do any better.”

“What do you care what I think, anyway? I don't even count, right? I could disappear forever and it wouldn't make any difference…” He paused. “I may as well not even exist at this school, remember?” He snapped his head up to look at Bill. “None of you like me anyway, we’re not friends. You made that plenty clear.”

Surprisingly, Eddie is the one that speaks up. “I’m sorry, okay? Richie, I tried. You know how my mother is. I would’ve stayed if I could she told me that I couldn’t!” He’s crying. “I’m sorry!”

Bill pauses. “My Gah-God, are wuh-we gonna be like our p-parents?”

“Not me...ever…” Bev promises.

“It's unavoidable, it just happens,” Stan says. “When you get older, your heart dies.”

“Who cares?” Richie snorts. “Who fucking cares?”

“I care…” Mike tells them. “I care so much.”

“Um, I was just thinking, I mean,” Ben says. “I know it's kind of a weird time, but I was just wondering, um, what is gonna happen to us on Monday? When we're all together again? I mean I consider you guys my friends, I'm not wrong, am I?”

“No,” Bill says. “Y-You’re not wr-wrong.”

“So on Monday,” Eddie faulters. “What happens?”

Stan turns to Ben.“If Eddie came walking up to you in the hall on Monday, what would you do? I mean picture this, you're there with all the sports. I know exactly what you'd do, you'd say hi to him, and when he left you'd cut him all up so your friends wouldn't think you really liked him!”

“I wouldn’t!” Ben yells.

“You would if Henry Bowers were there!” Stan yells back.

“You’re such an ass!” Richie says.

Eddie folds his arms. “He’s telling the truth.”

“No, he’s not!”

Stan turns to Richie then, “Okay, what about you, you hypocrite! Why don't you take Eddie to one of your heavy metal vomit parties? Or take Ben out to the parking lot at lunch to get high? What about Bev or Mike for that matter, what about me? What would your friends say if we were walking down the hall together? They'd laugh their asses off and you'd probably tell them you were doing it with Bev so they'd forgive you for being seen with us.”

“Don't you ever talk about my friends! You don't know any of my friends, you don't look at any of my friends and you certainly wouldn't condescend to speak to any of my friends!” Tears are gathering in corners of his eyes. “And in case you fucking forgotten, you guys were the ones to leave me! I’ve tried asshole! But you’re always busy, Eddie’s mom is a fat bitch, Ben has Henery fucking Bowers. Every single one of you has someone!”

“Shut up!” Bill snaps.

“And as far as being concerned about what's gonna happen when you and I walk down the hallways at school, you can forget it! 'Cause it's never gonna happen! Just bury your head in the sand...and wait for your fuckin' prom!”

“I hate you!” Bill screams. 

“Like that’s fucking news to me!” Richie screams back.

“I just wanna tell, each of you, that I wouldn't do that,” Eddie says solemnly. “I wouldn't and I will not! 'Cause I think that's really shitty. I did it before and I will never do it again. My mom can eat her heart out, ‘cuz you guys are my friends.”

Stan pauses. “Know why I'm here today? Do you? I'm here because Mr. Penny found a gun in the locker.”

“Why'd you have a gun in your locker?” Mike asks.

“I tried…” He pauses. “You pull the trunk on it and the light's s'posed to go on...and it didn't go on, I mean, I…”

“Stanley.” Richie breathes. “God, I didn’t- Stan-”

“I pushed away all my friends,” He gestures. “So I considered my options, you know?”

“No! Killing yourself is not an option!” Richie snaps. “‘Cuz I’d fucking miss you. You’re my best fucking friend. You’ve always been, even when you hated me. I’ve always been your guy’s friend. I just got a little lost waiting for you.”

Eddie looks up at him. “Fuck it, health be damned.” And pulls him in for a hug.

Suddenly, they’re all in a giant group hug. Then, they’re laughing. And everything makes sense. 

As they pull apart, Richie says something he never thought he’d say out loud. “I’ve been in love with the same person since second grade.”

Bev smiles at him. “Yeah?”

Richie takes a deep breath. “It’s a boy.”

Eddie grabs his hand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He breaths.

Eddie lets go of his hand. “We need to make an oath. A promise. That we won’t forget each other.”

Bev thinks for a moment, then fishes a pocket knife out of her bag. “Blood Oath.”

The rest of the Losers share a look, and then a nod. Bev cuts her palm, then passes it to Richie, who does the same. Each of them cut their palm, then join hands.

It stings, and it’s gross, but Eddie doesn’t doubt it for a second.

Hours pass by. Bev does each of their makeup, which Eddie, Mike, and Bill immediately take off, but Stan finds he quite likes it. 

Mike stares at him. 

Stan stares back. “What?”

“Cool!” Mike tells him brightly.

Stan smiles. “Thank you.”

“It’s nice to see your face,” Mike says. “Usually you’re always staring at the ground or in a book.” 

“Thank you.” He says again and joins their hands. 

Mike stares at him like he just hung the moon. 

Bev walks over to where Bill is staring again at his paper. “You gonna write it?”

“Hm?” He looks up. “I think so.”

“None of us are, but I think you’d do perfectly.” She leans over and pecks him on the cheek. “You’re a good guy, Bill.”

“Thanks, Bev.” He smiles. 

Bev nods then joins Ben at the other table.

Bill uncaps his pen and starts writing. 

In the janitor closet where Richie was supposed to be this entire time, Eddie walks in with him. 

“You lost?” Richie asks.

Eddie shakes his head and steps forward. Richie smiles. Eddie reaches forward, going onto his tiptoes and places a kiss on that smile.

Richie jumps back, eyes widening. “Why'd you do that?”

“Because you wouldn’t,” Eddie says simply. 

Richie looks down at him. “Do you really hate it when I call you Eds?”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Truth?”

“Truth.”

They answer at the same time. “No.”

Richie kisses him again. 

Back in the library, Bill has finished his paper. He kisses it and shows it to the other Losers, once Eddie and Richie get back. 

At the end of the day, these seven outcasts bid their goodbyes. 

Mike and Stan promise each other milkshakes next weekend as Stan gets into his dad’s car. Its a beat-up thing, shining with a new coat. 

Bev pulls Ben into a kiss as he leaves and steals a patch off of his jacket. 

Eddie’s mom pulls up, and Richie prepares to be left in the dust when Eddie grabs him by the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m gonna be so grounded for this.” He warns, crashing their lips together. 

Bill waves them all off, then hands Mr. Penny his essay with a smile. 

_ Dear Mr. Penny,  _

_ We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us… In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But today we found out that each of us is a Stutter, a Fatty, a Slut, a Brain, a Farmboy, a Hypochondriac, and a Trashmouth. _

_ Does that answer your question? _

_ Sincerely yours, the Losers Club. _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This took way to long to write lmao


End file.
